


Merry Christmas, Your Ass

by asimaiyat



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Banter, Christmas, Drinking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay Bar, Holiday, Humor, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, fairytale of new york - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimaiyat/pseuds/asimaiyat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Bones spend Christmas Eve in the drunk tank, reminiscing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Your Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Christmas classic, "Fairytale of New York" by the Pogues featuring Kirsty MacColl.

Jim slumped down on the mossy cement floor, his head cradled in both clumsy hands. He wasn't sure if at this point in the evening he was still drunk, or just starting to be hungover. "Gotta say, Bones, this wasn't how I was expecting to spend our last Christmas Eve together. Last year of our mission, anyway."

Bones took a long, slow look around the cell, taking in the battered bars and the other drunks and hooligans leaning against the walls and the tall, bored blue guys guarding them. "Hey, it could be worse. I suppose if we were back on the ship we'd be having one of your parties."

"Hey!" Yeah, definitely still drunk -- if he were hungover, he'd be feeling vaguely like he ought to be offended, not suddenly ready to start throwing punches without quite being able to follow the conversation that led him there. There's a whole taxonomy to these things. It's subtle. "My parties are _awesome_."

"I think it was your definition of 'awesome' that landed us in this, um, establishment." Bones sounded like he was still drunk, too, but maybe he was right? Jim was fuzzy on the details. He remembered the big fancy party with those ambassadors, and the hot, spicy drinks that the serving girls kept bringing around in great big steaming mugs, and then... everyone had been very angry at him, for some reason. And then he remembered walking down an unfamiliar street, and a vague image of one of the blue guys showing off the universal body language signals for "cop in a bad mood." And that was about it. He really hoped he hadn't gotten drunk and fucked up the mission, but something was keeping him from asking Bones what had happened. Oh yeah, right. Pride.

"My definition of awesome is _awesome._ By, um, by definition. You can't seriously tell me that we haven't had four years of kick-ass onboard Christmas parties."

"I can tell you we've had four years of me spending Christmas morning treating hangovers, STIs and random brawling injuries. I think that makes this a refreshing change."

"Bones! You _wound_ me! Don't you remember the time we ended up having a cuddle party in the Jefferies Tubes?" Jim was aware that their fellow miscreants were starting to stare and grumble. He didn't really care -- nobody else was providing entertainment, so it might as well be his job.

"Yep. Hannity had a, what was it? A claustrophobia-induced panic attack. Shoved Patel hard enough to crack two ribs, not that he thought to check until the next day. Besides which, Engineering didn't shut up for weeks about the clean-up job."

"You really are no fun. The time we got Spock drunk on chocolatinis, though, that was --"

"Utterly not worth the hassle of dragging your nerve-pinched ass back to your quarters, checking for damage from the fall, and then having to goddamn _run_ back to the bridge to take over as designated captain because everyone who outranked me was obviously incapacitated. You know how some things should just never happen, Jim? Me having to captain a damn starship. That is one of those things."

Jim shut up for a minute. "Wow, you did all that stuff?" 

"I'm too drunk to lie, so yes."

"Wow." 

There would have been silence for a minute, while Jim contemplated Bones's remarks and also tried to remember what he was going to say next, but there were other people in the room, and some of them had started to sing. Not the blue guards, who were starting to shade from bored to downright grumpy, but the other prisoners. Maybe some of them were Terrans, or maybe they just got Terran TV in this neighborhood of the galaxy, because they were definitely singing "Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire." Great.

"Seriously, though... I mean it." Jim paused and rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to tune out the background noise. "You've never had fun at one of our Christmases?"

"I'm sure I have, I'm just not remembering anything that doesn't involve chaos and vomit."

"Oh yeah? What about..." 

Jim gave it some thought. No, not the year where Sulu brought the special brownies. There was the time when -- no, that was the year he and Matthews from Security had ended up under the mistletoe and one of them had decided to start a brawl instead of a kiss. That one had definitely resulted in extra work for Bones. Shit, did he really have a point? Had Jim really failed to give his best friend and -- okay, he could admit it to himself (still drunk, apparently) -- the love of his life, a single fun, stress-free, awesome-tastic Christmas? That couldn't be right.

"Wait! I thought of one. Our first year at the Academy!"

"One what?"

"One awesome Christmas. Where nobody needed medical attention. And you didn't have to captain a starship, even."

"Our first year at the Academy? Jim, we were pathetic! Don't you remember, your roommate was that Deluzian who had all those religious restrictions, and kicked your ass out on the street after three weeks? I found you sleeping in the library, in one of the study cubicals for research students! _My_ cubical, for what it's worth."

"Yeah, you found me and took me to the... okay, I needed a little medical attention. But that doesn't count, because it wasn't actually Christmas, just backstory. Backstory is important, though. You should keep going."

Their fellow prisoners had finished their song, and a few of them now seemed to be listening, maybe hoping to hear a good story with a couple of fight scenes in it.

"If you insist. God knows we don't have anything better to do in this hell hole. I remember I had a single room because of my work on the medical research team, and the residency officers finally agreed to let you move in -- "

"After I charmed the pants off of them."

"After you wore down their resistance until they would have given you anything if they thought it would make you shut your mouth."

"Hey! You're telling it all wrong." Jim pouted.

"Okay, you tell it. I'm sure your version is much more accurate."

"Fine. That was how we ended up rooming together, but we didn't see much of each other that semester. You were doing research, and I was, um, I was busy too. Not to mention that with Pike riding my ass, I actually studied more than I had in my whole life. We were friends, but I don't remember going out together or anything."

"I wasn't sure you were technically sleeping in the room enough of the time to qualify as my roommate."

"I was giving you space to work! And you were always gone when I woke up in the morning, you know. And you never made your bed when you left. If they'd ever done those room inspections they kept threatening... but anyway. That's still background. The _important_ thing is, I didn't have anywhere to go for Christmas that year. My first year away from home, y'know? And my mom was off in space on a mission. I mean, I get it now -- look at us -- but at the time, it kinda stung. My brother might have been back in Iowa, but I hadn't heard from him since I enlisted. So I told everyone I was going home, and I just figured I'd hole up in the room and drink alone a couple of nights. Get some studying done in the daylight, maybe."

"Not that you asked if you'd have the room to yourself, of course."

"Well, I figured you'd have somewhere to go. You know, you were always a nice guy. People like you. I figured you had someone waiting for you with a whole bunch of pecan pies, or I dunno, whatever they do for holidays in the South." Jim shrugged his shoulders. 

" _Whatever they do._ And what did you think _I_ thought?"

Pause. "I dunno... what did you think?"

"Well, you thought _I_ was popular. Every time I saw you outside of the room, you were strutting around like the cock of the walk with your own personal cheerleading squad following you around! Meanwhile, I'd just signed away my damn soul on those divorce papers, and it was going to be my first Christmas without my little girl. I could have gone home to my mom and dad, but to be perfectly honest, I couldn't really imagine celebrating without her."

At which point this bearded dude who'd been leaning against the damp wall -- Jim had thought he was asleep -- cut in: "You _chose_ not to spend Christmas with your mamma?"

" _Hey._ You have any kids?"

"Let it go, Jim. The man has a point; I was sulking. So, I thought -- well, I thought I'd hole up in the room, drink alone a couple of nights, and maybe get some studying done."

"Right... so I come in at, what, eight thirty at night? After just wandering around campus all day, not getting anything done. I'd got my boots off and almost started on my pants when I saw you there, lying on your bed reading."

"Well when you put it like that, it sounds like the beginning of a bad porno."

"Not exactly, dude. You were wearing boxers and those huge wool socks you used to wear. And you had this look on your face, like -- I was actually surprised to see that you could _stop_ frowning after that. You had _cleavage_ on your _face_."

"Yeah, well. You didn't look so hot yourself."

"Bullshit."

"I don't think you'd slept for a week, Jim. And then somehow -- against my better judgement -- you talked me into going down to the cantine for dinner with you instead of just reheating some leftover pizza like I was in the mood for."'

"Hey, I felt bad for you. And that made me feel kind of bad for _me._ Did I even tell you what the deal was with me not going home?"

"Not at first. I think you just muttered something about not wanting to put up with crap from your family. And I made some kind of noise to suggest that it was the same for me."

"Huh, so basically, we had to go somewhere, because the longer we talked the more lies we'd have to make up."

Bones cocked an eyebrow. "Sounds like the beginning of a perfectly healthy relationship."

"Hey, it worked. Well, dinner was pretty awkward -- oh man, it's weird now to think about being in the canteen with almost nobody else in it."

"Because of after?"

"Yeah. It seems eery now. Forshadowing." The word seemed to need some wavy hand gestures to illustrate it.

"You're drunk, Jim. You're right, though, it did look like that. I never thought about that before."

"After what?" somebody asked from the other side of the cell, and Jim and Bones turned their heads in unison to glare at him. What were they going to say, anyway? These people probably didn't know anything about what was now just an episode of Earth history.

"So yeah. It's Christmas Eve, and we're eating in this sad, empty cafeteria, and I said --"

"I remember exactly what you said. You said, 'Okay, this is ridiculous. We're going to go get hammered.' And then you literally grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the canteen. We'd never actually touched each other before, and you _drag_ me out the door and practically down the block --"

"To whatsitsface, the campus bar -- MacElroy's! Which was closed. Of course. Stupid little sign in the window."

"And I obviously didn't know you _at all_ , because I figured we were going to do what any reasonable person would do on a cold night that was already getting depressing, and just go home and have a couple glasses of bourbon before bed. Little did I know that you knew this _awesome_ place and I was _totally_ going to love it..."

"I was so right."

"It was a gay piano bar in the Castro! Which you could have let me know before we both walked in in our cadet uniforms..."

"Dude, you were complaining about _free drinks!_ You were all, 'I'm a doctor, not a sailor!' And you kept blushing! It was like you'd never been hit on before."

"Yeah, well, some of us aren't as perceptive about these things as you are. At any rate, as soon as my eyes were on the bar trying to figure out what it took to get a Jack Daniels in this place, you'd gone and disappeared on me. Until of course I heard your voice in the very center of the room, and saw every goddamn pair of eyes in the place suddenly focus on you."

"Hey, the piano guy knew me. He started the first bars of 'Glory' from _Rent_ before I'd even got a drink. What was I supposed to do?"

"I'm not exactly the expert on these situations. But by the time I caught sight you through the crowd, you'd lost your cadet jacket and were drinking in the attention like some kind of neglected puppy. And this was before you jumped up on the damn bar to belt out the last verse."

"Admit it, you thought that was pretty cool. I saw you smiling when you didn't think I was looking."

"Dammit, Jim. Why were you even looking at me?"

Jim shrugged. "Same reason I brought you there in the first place. Oh man, your reactions were so great. When I got to the line about the eyes of a young man, and I pointed at you... wow. Lit up like a Christmas tree."

"I didn't realize Christmas trees could feel shame."

"Shows how much you know. Anyway, I don't know why you were so embarrassed. You didn't even sing."

"Yes, I did. Didn't I? Oh, dammit... you know, of all the times in my life that I can't seem to recall clearly, a remarkable number of them involve you." He frowned. "But I did sing. I remember sitting down by the piano, and the guy sort of putting his hand on my shoulder."

"No, no. While I basked in the applause and sang my encore -- what was it? Oh, yeah! 'All I Want For Christmas Is You' -- you were still at the bar having more drinks. It took me forever to get to you, and by the time I did you were kind of wasted. I told you it was your turn to sing, and you sort of grumbled a lot but followed me over to the piano. I remember sat down next to you 'cause you were a little shaky. And the guy asked what you wanted, and you said, 'Do you have any Hank Williams?' And he laughed! You were pissed. You looked him right in the eye, and you said, 'Listen, buddy' -- you actually said that, you said 'listen, buddy,' like in some old Western movie -- 'Listen, buddy, this past year my wife took our four-year-old daughter and left me for another man. Took the house, took all our friends, took the damn dog. Now, I ain't sayin' I was the greatest husband and father ever, 'cause I wasn't, but dammit, I never thought I'd be spending Christmas getting drunk with my crazy roommate who just decided to take pity on me because apparently I'm so damn pathetic. Now, can you tell me a song that's appropriate for that situation that _wasn't_ written by the great Hank Williams, senior?'"

"I do not sound like that."

"He actually sounds just like you," said the nearest blue guy. The other guards nodded.

"You did sound pretty much like that. I remember, because I'd never heard you sound like that before. And it was kind of a punch in the gut, y'know? I hadn't known how tough things were on you. And it must have hit the piano guy pretty hard, too, because he stopped laughing real fast. I think he said --"

"I remember now. He said, 'oh honey, I think I know just the one.' And then he played and sang 'Willow, Weep For Me' by Ella Fitzgerald. It's probably a false memory, but I feel like I remember everyone just getting quiet and listening to him sing. And I just sort of leaned into your arm, and you held me up, and I remember you sang along real quiet."

" _Gone my lovely dreams, lovely summer dreams, something something weep my tears upon the stream,_ " Jim sang almost under his breath. "Yeah, you've got it right. It was just quiet for a minute. And then somebody burst into 'Jesus Christ Superstar' and we sort of wandered away in the chaos."

"Yeah. I remember you tried to corner me by the bar and tell me something about how you didn't just feel sorry for me, but I didn't want to hear it. I was pretty embarrassed. I shoved a bunch of credits over the bar to close my tab, and took off."

"And I was all, 'oh no you don't!', because you were completely drunk and trying to run off into a strange neighborhood by yourself, and besides, I was kind of mad about what you said. So I sort of, um, followed --"

"You chased me down the street, Jim. You kept yelling that you didn't feel sorry for me, you didn't think I was pathetic, 'hey, Bones! Hey, Bones!' And when I finally stopped and turned around, you said -- what did you say?"

"I dunno. I thought you said something. Didn't you say you loved me?"

"No! That doesn't make any sense. I thought you said you loved _me_. Or something like that, anyway. I don't really remember what happened between when I stopped walking and when we were leaning against the street light making out."

"Me neither."

"I remember the kissing, though. It was good, in a drunk, crazy sort of way."

"Yeah." Jim grinned. "And then that asshole hovercop stopped us and threatened to bring us in for public intoxication if we didn't get our asses back to campus. Asshole."

"You said that. But yeah. I don't really remember the trip back, either. I just remember waking up the next morning thinkin' I'd screwed everything up with you."

"And I woke up thinking the same thing. In retrospect, you were way drunker than me. I thought I'd messed up one of those boundary things that I'm never any good at. So I just figured I wouldn't say anything about it, and if you didn't want to talk about it, I'd just pretend I didn't remember anything."

"Dammit, Jim, _I_ was pretending I didn't remember anything!"

"Oh, crap. And then we didn't kiss again for, like, a whole semester. We're idiots. We could have kissed way more times. Every day, even."

"We don't even kiss every day _now_!"

"But we were young and romantic then! Oh, man."

"You kissed me tonight," Bones offered.

"I... what? At the dinner thing? With the...?"

"Yeah, that was what got us thrown out. Well, asked to leave, anyway. _Politely._ "

"Seriously? That must have been one hell of a kiss."

"It... it was nice, actually. We'd gotten all the agreements signed, and toasted everyone but Santa Claus, and you were all warm and fuzzy on those hot toddies they kept bringing us, and you said, 'You know, I really love this guy.' And you kissed me. And then it got real quiet and the Federation consul who'd shown us around leaned over and said we should probably leave. What with them being blue-faced retrograde assholes, I guess."

"They threw us in jail for _that_?"

"Nope. You just got real serious and said, 'Alright then, I guess it's time we took off.' And you downed one last mug of booze, took my hand, and shoved off. Wasn't until we were halfway down the street that one of these guys here picked us up for -- here's some irony for you -- public intoxication. You passed out in the back of the hoversquad. Lightweight."

"Hey, I'm the Captain! The consul told us I had to drink everything they brought me, or it would send a bad message. During the customs and etiquette talk, when... oh, fuck."

"What?"

"This is one of those no-public-displays-of-affection planets, isn't it?" Jim realized that he didn't feel drowsy anymore, but his head was killing him. Definitely hungover rather than drunk. One of the guards nodded sadly.

"Crap. So that means I probably shouldn't kiss this guy, then?"

Another nod.

"Okay, okay, differing cultural norms, I get it." He wrapped an arm around Bones and gave him a friendly sort of squeeze. "Consider this an I.O.U, then. Merry Christmas, Bones."

"Merry Christmas, Jim. Can't wait for the onboard New Year's Eve party."


End file.
